My thoughts on a basketball
by witchfingers
Summary: Sports, Maths, Literature, deep dislike for school. What else does one need to be normal? [Warning: Present day alter!Envy finds LoTR! XD]


Warning: Present day alter!Envy finds LoTR! XD

_Kudos to LeandroGarel for lending me his character XD... bah... I mean, you did lend it to me, right...? "jijiji"_

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA, Arakawa-sensei does. And I don't onw Remy Vious, either. LeandroGarel does. (LOL Lea, you're in a disclaimer... How does that _feel_?)

* * *

It was a quiet afternoon, already long past five. The pastel blue the sky faded into a pale, salmon_ish_ orange that hardly confused with the uninteresting musk green of the foliage. At that time of the day, all the trees looked the same. Especially the ones of his backyard.

By that moment, the temperature was beginning to drop some degrees, as it was normal for any day of April. Even so, drops of sweat trickled down his neck and nicely toned chest. His ears ignored for a while the hollow _thumps_ of the basketball against the slate-colored stone tiles, and chose to focus on the lethargic chirpings of the birds that hadn't gone to sleep yet. After a short break of gazing towards the line that the trees drew against the insipid sky, he lazily yawned and stretched. He tried to wipe the little salty drops that wet his headband, letting out a buff of frustration when a dyed emerald-colored bang hung threateningly before his eyes. His irritation was rapidly washed off by a badly kept chuckle. He still remembered with mirth his reaction when he'd noticed his reasonably younger brothers, Edward and Alphonse, had tried to play a prank on him and replaced his shampoo by green cloth-dye. He'd been in a killer mood for days until he'd recognized publicly that he was switching blonde for emerald. And then his father had wanted to kill _him_, but that was completely _another_ story.

The characteristic smell of dew rose to flood his nostrils. He grinned in satisfaction, picking up, with a barely vague expression, the momentarily forgotten basketball, and bouncing it without much professionalism for an uncertain while.

He aimed at the basket a couple of times, all shots going in and making him chase the ball around the garden. "_This is SO dull…_" He thought, gathering the basketball again and throwing it into the metal ring, "_Man, I still have to do that Math homework… keh, I can borrow it tomorrow…_" He glanced down at the very disregarded Literature book he was supposed to be reading. 'The Lord of the Rings,' the cover announced pompously. "Keh, don't think so highly of yourself." Remy stated, glaring at the book and wishing his words would reach the mythical characters, "After all, you're only a bunch of pretty words stuffed into a sheet of paper." He glared some more at the maroon object, before shifting his attention back to the basketball. He tried aiming for the basket once more, this time, he missed. "It'd be cool that aaalll that stuff really existed." He chuckled.

A chilly wind blew by, fluttering the book open, and flipping many pages until the gust died down a little. Remy snorted. "I won't read you, don't try to coax me." As if it were responding to the teen's exasperated words, some more pages flipped, almost provocatively. Remy wished he could glare at the wind, but, seeing that he couldn't, he glared some more at the book, and inwards he prayed no-one was around with a camera. "Blah blah, the Black riders, blah, some Eowyn chick, blah, blaaaaaaaaahhh…," he read aloud. "Come on, who on Earth would believe that a bunch of guys dressed in black want to capture the main character to make him give some magical thing to their all-seeing master?" He deposited again the book on the floor with a sigh. "That's sooo not credible…" He smirked, and threw the ball into the basket, once more, this time fitting it perfectly. He threw it again, with the same result. Pleased with himself, he picked up the book again (opening it in a random page), and went at it again, "Frodo Baggins, the hobbit, yaaaaaaaadda yadda," He found himself letting go of the book, and sitting on the orange ball with a defeated look to his face. "Why," he whined, "Why should I painstakingly read a whole 400+ word book, with a shorty as the hero? Who wants to read about a pipsqueak, anyway?"

He paused. "Hey, I'm good, I should think of joining the theatre club XD" His lips curved upwards in a soft, gentle smile.

Even if the coolness, the stillness, were all pointless, his eyes drifted towards the unseen horizon. The air smelled of life, evening. To forget his set-aside assignments and forge a whole new story out of them, it was easy to look at the sky.

"A good book should deal with some sort of country ruled by a strong military persona, whose actions are being closely watched by some ominous, sadowy entity." He paused, balancing the effect of his idea. He was liking it. "It could use some clad-in-black villains, since they seem to be so disgustingly popular." Remy closed his eyes, and pictured seven persons, all wearing black garments. He focused on one of them, who looked dangerously like himself. He smiled at his own self-resembling character. He took in all the features: the brackish hair, the lean build, the..._sports bra_? Just what on Earth? He frowned at the odd occurrence, and continued exploring the outfit, which had just... popped up in his mind, without even having to think of it. It was sort of freaky.

His eyes shot open all of a sudden.

"Was that a _miniskirt_?"

He paused, his mouth twitching in disgust.

"Eugh," he concluded, "That just _doesn't_ seem right…"

* * *

** Odd.**

**Random.**

**Plotless.**

**OHHH, I just LOVE to write these. R&R!...**

**And just in case... Remy is Alter!Envy...**


End file.
